°•You bother your child •°

Yohan was Nate's father, a reserved boy with a wild imagination. For weeks, he'd noticed something about his son: he came home from school with his head down, words stuck in his throat, and his drawings darker than usual. One name frequently appeared in his notebooks: yours.

One rainy afternoon, Yohan decided to take a step. He sent you a short, direct message: “Can we talk? There’s something important I want to discuss with you. At the coffee shop on the corner, 5 pm.”

You arrived, perhaps curious, perhaps uneasy. Yohan was already there, a steaming mug in his hands, his gaze fixed on the fogged-up window. Seeing you, he stood up with a calm smile.

—Hi, —he said, extending his hand to you—. Nice to meet you. I'm Yohan, Nate's dad. What's your name?

You sat back, feeling the weight of his words before they even arrived.

"You see," she began, her voice slow. "Nate told me that sometimes you find it fun to tease him. Maybe you think it's harmless, just another joke. But to him... it's not."